World Forgetting
by hurricanehead
Summary: When Blaine chose to forget, he thought it would be simple. An easy way to stop the heartbreak. But as he starts to explore the memories he never knew he had, Blaine begins to realise that maybe the past is what he has needed all along.


**Author's Note: ** Influenced by the movie _Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind_. Although it isn't necessary to have seen the film to understand, it will probably help

* * *

><p>How happy is the blameless vestal's lot<br>The world forgetting, by the world forgot.  
>Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind<br>Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd.

- Eloisa to Abelard, Alexander Pope.

* * *

><p>The room is white.<p>

Except it isn't, because there are stains marking the walls, tiny cracks in the plaster. A coffee stain. Bad paint job. The man's fingers are stained with tobacco, yellowing just under the nail and a nervous twitch. His breath smells of smoke and Blaine recoils and leans closer at the same time. The distinct push and pull of addiction and Blaine knows it better than he would like to admit. Blaine scuffs his shoes on the carpet, brushes dust from his clothing.

"Now, Mr. Anderson, this procedure is permanent. Once it has been done, there will be no way to restore your memories. Do you still wish to proceed?"

Blaine feels something cold settle in the base of his spine, trickle up, pulse through his veins and bury deep into his heart. He feels his soul twist and Blaine is sick of hurting. Sick of the past being a permanent stain on his future. He closes his eyes, clings to the hope that maybe this can all just fade away, before nodding stiffly.

"Yes, yes I'm sure."

The doctor smiles, handing him the forms. The fingers that brush against his are smooth, almost delicate and they remind Blaine of the one thing he's paying to forget. They remind him of a time before that seems as if it was never real and as Blaine signs his name on the dotted line, pressing the pen down too hard so that the ink smudges and spreads, Blaine tries to think of nothing.

"Excellent. Well, we'll be in contact soon to organise when the procedure can take place."

"So that's it?"

"That's it. In a few days, Mr. Hummel will be completely erased from your past and you will have no memory of him or your time together. Just like that."

And Blaine laughs. A choked, bitter sound that lodges in his throat and burns in his eyes, the sedated anger of a man who is defeated. The finality of a man who has finally given up.

Just like that.

* * *

><p>Blaine hates the train. In fact, Blaine hates all public transport, but trains especially. They're all the same, the faint smell of piss and sweat and food lingering in the air, people sitting too close, their breath warm on his skin. His shirt clings to him uncomfortably, sweat beading at his forehead and Blaine can feel the panicked tension building in his chest. He closes his eyes, breathing deeply. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Count to four. Repeat. Blaine shuts himself off from the sounds of the world around him and focusses. In, two, three, four. Out, two, three four. In, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four.<p>

"Where are you going?"

The question startles Blaine, his eyes fluttering open, darting about before settling on the man next to him, who is staring at Blaine. Blaine feels his breath hitch as he looks at the stranger, who is waiting expectantly. He's gorgeous, all blue eyes and wild hair and clothes that fit him perfectly, fashionable but unique and suddenly Blaine is painfully aware of his mundane appearance. He's conscious of the ink mark on the cuff of his shirt, the coffee stains on his teeth, the shine of gel in his hair. Suit and briefcase and the keys to his office tucked in his pocket creating a shell of normality and suddenly Blaine has never felt more boring in his whole life.

"No place special."

His voice cracks, gaze dropping to his lap as the stranger laughs, carefree and bright. A twinge of annoyance tugs at Blaine, but he can't help the curiosity that also bubbles inside him. What does this man do? Who is he? Blaine thinks his answers would probably be more exciting than his own.

"I didn't mean right now. I meant in life. Where are you going in your life? Future plans and all that. The grand scheme."

Blaine draws his eyebrows together, unsure if the man is high or just plain crazy but he continues to watch Blaine so Blaine just shrugs, eyes watching as the city passes by the window.

"No place special."

The stranger hums, smiling when their gazes meet again and something stirs inside Blaine, a sudden case of déjà vu washing over him.

"What's your name?"

"Do you always ask people such personal questions?"

Blaine's voice comes out harsher than he intended and he instantly regrets it when the man's face falls slightly.

"No, you just seem familiar."

The stranger returns his gaze to the front of the train, fingers tapping against his thighs in some unheard melody. Blaine shifts uncomfortably in his seat, pulling at the collar of his shirt as the heat inside the carriage continues to increase. The silence suddenly feels awkward, tangible and rippling between them. The sun is just starting to dip in the sky, sending shadows dancing across the stranger's face, illuminating him in a warm glow and Blaine feels pulled towards him. The word _beautiful_ flits across his mind, but Blaine shakes it off, silently cursing himself for being so fanciful.

"Blaine. My name's Blaine. Blaine Anderson."

He's not sure what makes him blurt the words out, but when he does he is greeted by a large grin, the man's eyes glinting and Blaine can't help but return the gesture. It seems easy with this beautiful boy smiling at him, as if he's known him his whole life and Blaine feels a wave of life crash through him as they smile at each other.

The stranger extends his hand and Blaine gingerly accepts, grasping it in his. The man's palm is smooth, fingers brushing over Blaine's wrist, squeezing gently before letting go.

"What about you? Where are you going?"

Blaine glances at the man as he asks, biting on his lip nervously. The man doesn't seem fazed by the question at all though, eyebrows furrowing slightly as he contemplates his answer. As if Blaine has asked him the most important thing in the world.

"I don't know yet. I try not to plan too far ahead. I think home is a good start though."

Blaine doesn't even notice the train coming to a halt, oblivious to anything but the bright smile directed towards him and delicate touch. So it surprises Blaine when the man suddenly stands to leave, adjusting the top he's wearing and retrieving his satchel from the floor.

"Wait."

Blaine's hand extends on his own, fingers closing around the stranger's arm and the other man stops, blinking down as Blaine realises what he's done, releasing his hold.

"I didn't…I was just wondering if you could tell me your name?"

He receives another hearty laugh in response and Blaine also stands, hand clutching his bag tight enough that his knuckles turn white. A sudden fear grips Blaine, the idea that he may never see this man again resting on his shoulders, seeping into his thoughts and shattering the moment. Breaking this spell that has been created around them and Blaine doesn't know why, but it feels as if his heart is aching.

"Kurt."

The word lingers between them and Blaine rolls the world around his mouth, lets it linger on his tongue, sweet and melodic, like an old friend.

"Kurt."

"That's right, Blaine Anderson."

The train is nearly empty around them now and Kurt smiles again, moving into the aisle and waving at Blaine, eyes alight and vibrant.

"I hope you find somewhere special, Blaine."

And just like that he's gone, exiting the train and disappearing into the throbbing crowd of the city. Blaine blinks at the empty space where Kurt had been, unable to move, legs heavy. He stands there, waiting for something to happen because surely this should mean something. This is one of those moments where there should be a sign. Dramatic music and slow motion running and happily ever after.

Except it really doesn't work that way and eventually the train conductor comes down the carriage, whistling merrily as he goes about his business. The tune soon teeters off, however, when he sees Blaine still waiting there, frozen and wide-eyed.

"This is the last stop. Train doesn't go any further."

Blaine blinks at the man, who is eyeing Blaine warily in return. The whole world seems to readjust, reality snapping back in and Blaine shakes himself from his stupor, pulling his coat tighter around himself as he moves.

"I know. I-I'm sorry. I just zoned out a little I guess."

"Yeah, well, off you get."

The man's tone is clipped, standing rigid and gesturing to the open door of the train. Blaine nods, shuffling over, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. As he approaches the door, Blaine isn't sure if he's disappointed or not when he can't see Kurt amongst the rush of people, his eyes scanning the platform. He hears the train conductor cough pointedly and Blaine smiles briefly at him before stepping down onto the concrete. He can feel the man watching him as he stands there, an inexplicable loneliness washing over Blaine as he watches the crowd around him.

"I thought I saw someone I used to know."

And then the train door is closing and Blaine is swept into the hysteria of the city.


End file.
